


Possibilities

by FlorentineQuill



Series: Doctor Who Oneshots [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: flustered Doctor is flustered, immediately after A Good Man Goes to War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1935168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlorentineQuill/pseuds/FlorentineQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor has to make a quick pit stop before he starts searching for baby Melody Pond. Set immediately after A Good Man Goes To War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possibilities

**Author's Note:**

> One of my first Doctor Who oneshots, establishing my telepathy headcanon.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful NoOrdinarySouthernGirl

_Human plus Time Lord._

Vastra’s words echoed in his mind, bouncing off the walls at an ever frantic pace. He barely remembered asking River — _Melody. River. Melody, who would become River who would become —_ He stopped that thought right there as he strode into the TARDIS, throwing something over his shoulder about River getting Rory and Amy and everyone else back home. He had to find Melody. He would find Melody, he had promised Amy that he would and he was the Doctor. He _would_ find her. He just…had to make a pit stop, first. He had to know. 

The TARDIS hummed under his fingertips and he roused out of the jittery daze of _River-Melody-River-Human-plus-Time-Lord_ as he felt a lever drag against his hand in the opposite direction. “Sorry, Old Girl,” he murmured, patting the console. “Distracted, eh? But you know where I need to go, don’t you?” _Please,_ he added in his mind and braced himself as the TARDIS took off, sliding into the vortex of her own volition and with a minimum of the tossing and shaking he usually suffered at her hands. _Well, to be fair, that might be my fault_ , he thought, guilt prickling at the edge of his mind as he remembered tossing out the owner’s manual all those years ago. He smiled again, distracted by the rush of knowing exactly _who_ River Song was. “Always in my head, you gorgeous thing,” he said and looked up as she materialized. 

He eyed the door, torn between rushing out the doors and sweeping the River out there into a hug and…not rushing. He eyed the console, spotting several bits of worn wiring that probably required his immediate attention before they gave out, probably at the most inconvenient time with his particular brand of not-luck and— “Ouch!” He yelped, drawing back singed finger tips and sucking on them. “Message received, dear,” he muttered and headed for the doors. He took a deep breath, wondering _when_ the TARDIS had brought him to Stormcage, wondering if this River would be expecting him, if he should throw open the doors with his normal bravado, if she would— The doors swung out and the TARDIS gave a decidedly unhelpful jolt, making him stumble outside before slamming the doors shut with a decisive bang. He winced, almost hearing her speak to him. _Get out there, you idiot, and_ ask her.

“Doctor?”

His head snapped up and he managed something approximating his usual grin. “Hello, River.”

River approached the bars of her cell on cat-quiet feet. She studied him for a moment, searching his face for something hidden clue or treasure map, as if she could read his thoughts and he didn’t dare let hope take root in his hearts at that thought. “Ah,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “When are we for you?” she asked, curling her hands around the bars and tilting her head to one side, her hair tumbling with the motion in all its golden, glorious, distraction. “I have a pretty good idea but…” She shook her head.

“Demon’s Run. The second time, for you,” he said as he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and aimed it at the cell door. It unlocked with a definitive _clunk_ but she didn’t move to open the door. He tugged it open, absently waving the screwdriver over his shoulder as an alarm started to ring, irritating and loud in the echoing corridors. The alarm shut off and River moved back as he slipped inside. 

“That’s what I thought,” she said, not looking away from him. Another slight smile. “You know, I had quite the time explaining things to everyone after you left.” 

“Sorry about that,” he replied automatically and winced. “Should I expect an attempt on my life, the next time I see them? Rory is disturbingly competent with that sword and Amy is, well, Amy and Scottish and—” His brain stuttered to a halt as River pressed a finger to his lips, shushing him. 

“Spoilers,” she said. “But that’s not why you’re here, sweetie. Not really.” She cupped his jaw in her hand, sweeping one thumb over his cheek and he shied away. River let him, her hand falling to her side again. He knew her, knew what they would become but…they weren’t there yet.

“I—” Whatever clever words or implications he had prepared turned to ash in his mouth and he took a step forward. “Human _plus_ ,” he said, trying to think of how to phrase his questions so that he didn’t sound utterly barmy, well, any more so than usual, just in case. “Human plus Time Lord,” he tried again. River smiled at him, fingers reaching out to smooth his bow-tie as she waited patiently for him to finish. “River,” he said, and oh, he loved that name, it was a brilliant name, not as brilliant as Melody but he was in love with it just for the sheer fact that she had been hiding in plain sight. “Are you — I mean, how much — Oh, I can’t even ask you properly!” he snapped, turning away from her. Self-disgust settled onto his shoulders. _There you are, old friend_ , he thought. 

There was a quiet chuckle from behind him and he half-turned, indignant that she was laughing at him, laughing about this— Warm arms slipped around him and River rested her cheek against his shoulder. “Bless, you can be so inarticulate over the simplest questions,” she said fondly. 

He bristled. “It’s not simple!” he argued, losing most of his indignation as her curls staged an invasion of his mouth. He sputtered and patted them awkwardly back down, finally sticking his chin on top of her head to trap the invaders. She hummed against him and he swallowed. He couldn’t remember being this close to River without being in some sort of danger, either by chasing guards or tribesmen or-or-or something or from herself, with her wild curls and guns and hallucinogenic lipstick— 

His thoughts stuttered to a halt again as River squeezed him. “On the contrary, it is,” she said. “Once you stop that massive brain of yours long enough to spit out the words.” 

“But—” _I’m afraid,_ he didn’t say and River laughed again.

“You nearly had it earlier,” she teased, pulling back enough to grin at him, all sharp teeth and red lips.

“How can you joke about this,” he said. “River— Are you like— like me?” he asked, gripping her upper arms as she took a step back, away from him. “Human plus Time Lord,” he said in a quiet voice that edged on begging. “Do you know what that means?” _What it could mean, what it will mean, what it has meant…_ The Gallifreyan tenses clicked through his mind as he watched her. 

“Now there’s a loaded question,” she mused, not quite meeting his eyes. A quick glance and another smile. “I could say spoilers— ”

“Don’t,” he interrupted and she shook her head.

“No, my love, not for something like this,” she said. 

“Oh good—!” He nearly jumped out of his skin as she relaxed under his hands, eyes sliding half-way shut and some unnamed, unnoticed tension slid out of her muscles and for the first time in oh, far too long, he felt something brush across his mind, against half-forgotten shields and slipped past into the part of his mind he had trained himself to ignored, that other sense that sought out other Gallifreyans. 

_Hello, sweetie,_ she whispered into his mind, peering up at his face. 

_Oh._ He managed and felt his balance waver, knees going all wibbley. He felt a warm wash of sun-baked linen, concern, tinged with the faintest prickling metallic thread of amusement. River quickly guided him to sit on her cot. It was surprisingly cushy, with a thick mattress and what felt like a down comforter from the third moon of Cassiopeia and— 

_Are you alright?_ she asked, staring down at him. He caught a flash of desire, sun-hot silk against his thoughts and saw her sliding onto his lap— Before he could do more than twitch back, she flushed and tucked the memory away. He felt her raise a shield of her own, thin enough that he could still _feel_ her, circling the edges of his mind in a patient, noninvasive manner, but not quite so immediate.

“Um,” he said aloud and closed his eyes. _Hello,_ he finally said, reaching out with a tentative mental touch. The last time he had used this part of himself, he had been saving Donna, Amy hadn’t counted, not really, and oh, how he still hated himself for hurting Donna like that. He shivered as River caught him in a gentle, mental grasp. _Oh, Rassilon, I’ve missed this_ , he thought and sagged forward, cradling his head in his hands and felt tears against his palms, hot and entirely warranted under the circumstances. 

He didn’t think about it, had gotten used to not reaching out for any sort of mental contact over the centuries, after the Time War. He knew there were other races, other telepathic races, but he hadn’t dare visit them back when it had been too fresh. He was better now but they didn’t deserve to share his pain, whatever psychic scars lingered under half-collapsed shields. (Because what was the point in keeping them up, if there was no one to hear him?)

_Oh, my love_ , River whispered. She slid her hands through his hair, fingertips lingering at his temples. _You’ve been alone for so long. The number of times I almost reach out before we do diaries—_ She eased herself onto the bed beside him and slipped her arm around his waist.

He shivered again. _What does it feel like for you?_ he asked, trying to distract himself.

_Hmm?_ Her mental touch was softer, well-worn cotton that had been washed and worn a thousand times into shapeless comfort. He felt her collect herself and waited. _Oh, I don’t know. Not a wide range of experiences to pull from but… I suppose it’s closest to taste, in a way. Chocolates, if that’s not horribly cliche. I barely need the diary when we’re past this. You’re so bittersweet right now, love—_

_Spoilers_ , he thought dully, resting his head against her shoulder. His arm curled around her waist and he felt her sigh, both in his mind and against his side.

_Spoilers,_ she agreed, carding one hand through his hair again before withdrawing. “Does that answer your question?” she asked aloud and he wanted to cry out at the loss of contact as she pulled away from his mind.

“One of them,” he said. “What about— Other things?” he asked, coloring. 

“See for yourself,” she said, pulling his free hand up to her throat. Her skin was warmer than his but still noticeably cooler than a human’s and he bit his cheek as his fingers slid down along the side of her throat, feeling out her jugular vein, thudding against his fingers in a steady rhythm that he could feel drumming against his own ribs. _Thump thump thump thump_. _Thump thump thump thump_. _Thump thump thump thump_. Quick, almost thready, and twice as fast as a normal human’s heartbeat.

_“Oh,”_ he breathed. “Two hearts.” 

“Two hearts,” she agreed. “I usually have bio-dampers, to keep people from finding out. I don’t have quite the full range of senses as you, I think— I can’t see timelines but I can feel out major events and if I’m somewhere very, very, quiet and I stand, very, very, still, I can sometimes feel the ground underneath my feet as it turns, falling through space.” 

_The turn of the earth_ , he recalled distantly, in a rich Northern accent that had been as gruff as the leather jacket he had worn, a million years ago. _The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour. The entire planet is hurtling around the sun at sixty seven thousand miles an hour. And I can feel it. We're falling through space, you and me—_ He cut himself off there, ignoring the ache that nestled between his hearts at the thought of his— _no, not mine, never mine, not anymore —_ of that pink and yellow human, of not-his Rose. 

“You should go,” River said. “Amy and Rory are waiting for you to find their Melody.”

“Will I?” he asked and immediately wanted to reach out, grab the words with their vibrating sound waves, and jam them back into his mouth.

“Spoilers,” River said and he nodded.

“Right, of course,” he said, clapping his hands together and shoving himself up onto his feet. His knees wavered again but he waved off River’s concerned glance as he tottered a few steps and regained his balance, even if his dignity was long gone. “Well, then,” he said, spinning around as he backed out of her cell and towards the TARDIS. _I’ll see you later, River Song_ , he finished and felt her answering mental touch, a flicker of velvet-soft fondness that he wanted to rub against, like a cat in a patch of sunlight.

_Go on, you idiot,_ she said and he relocked her cell door with another flick of his sonic, ignoring how the velvet shifted to a rougher rasp of regret, burlap against too-soft flesh.


End file.
